A Powerless World | Book 3 | Defend The Homestead Hunt, Jack (read my book TXT) 📖

More laughter ensued.

“What the hell was that all about?” Johnson asked in a disapproving tone.

“I got what I needed.”

“Yeah, well next time you plan to do something like that, give me a heads-up. You have no idea what these people are capable of.”

Benjamin pulled his arm away. “Am I supposed to be scared?”

“You should be.”

Chapter Seventeen

Where his family grew product, Colby’s cousin was the mad scientist behind every successful grow. Heath had chosen to focus on developing technology and equipment for growing, harvesting, extraction, and packaging. It was for large-scale commercial and small businesses looking to dip their feet into the world of cannabis. With so many flocking to the Emerald Triangle and trying to earn money growing, trimming, or selling weed, few had considered how profitable equipment sales could be. Some had tried to dabble in the market but Heath knew it like the back of his hand. He’d built every single one of the contraptions they used.

That’s what set him apart.

It could take months to get other companies to ship large products to Humboldt. Heath knew that. Hell, everyone did. That’s why he’d made a killing selling to those who preferred convenience and speed over low cost. And that was about everyone here. No one had patience. They wanted to roll in the green as soon as possible. The Stricklands were no different.

It was even said that they had bought from him, of course through someone else as there was no damn way Heath would sell to them. When he found out they were using his equipment, he was livid. But by then there was little he could do.

Heath’s business, Buds Gear, was located in the west end of town. The one-story ramshackle building was set back from the road, surrounded by trees and tall grass. It was more of a dangerous laboratory than a showroom. His home was beside it. A two-story cabin that looked oddly out of place among the various homes nestled in the redwoods. He said he liked to stay close. It was easier to keep watch over the shop. Not that anyone would be able to steal much, as most of the equipment was too large for a smash and grab, and there were rumors that he’d booby-trapped the entire property.

This was verified when two locals figured they were up to the challenge of breaking and entering. They hit the place at night when he was out of town. They were found a day later, alive and well, at the bottom of a 20-foot-deep pit. Heath let them go, knowing humiliation was punishment enough. Of course, they didn’t want to press charges.

That was only one of the many tales about Heath.

Now, standing outside his workshop, Colby blew his cheeks out at the thought of what they’d find inside. They could never tell what mood Heath would be in. Some days he was your typical stoner, all peace and love, the next, paranoid that the cops were on to him or the CIA were trying to steal his patented ideas straight out of his brain.

From outside they heard the dull drone of classical music.

“Sounds like he’s in the moment. Perhaps you two should go in,” Colby said.

“Oh, hell no!” Dylan replied. “You were sent to help as well.”

“You two crack me up. Heath’s fine,” Zeke said, dismounting from an ATV with a trailer attached to the back.

“Yeah, if you have riot gear on hand,” Dylan retorted.

Before getting off his horse, Colby said over his shoulder to Alicia, “Forgive my bizarre family in advance. I can’t be held responsible for what you’re about to see.”

“That bad?”

“Oh, trust me. This guy makes Cheech and Chong look like the Dalai Lama.”

She chuckled as he gave her a hand down. Colby whistled to Kane and he came over from sniffing near the doorway. “Well at least we can all breathe a sigh of relief. There are no bombs inside,” Colby said, sliding off the horse.

Alicia frowned. “Bombs?”

“Yeah. Let’s just say that Heath thinks he’s a visionary. When he’s not building products that can be used to help grow product, he’s concocting all manner of experiments inside. He’s a modern-day Nikola Tesla. An eccentric fool that is liable to kill himself before he kills anyone else.” He motioned to his brother Zeke. “Okay, you first.”

Zeke laughed as he took a toke on his joint before he tried the door. It was locked. He rapped his knuckles against a window. “Heath. It’s Zeke.”

There was no answer. The music inside was too loud.

“Who wants to go over the fence?” he asked, pointing to the one around the side.

Dylan shook his head. “Last time I did that, his dog took a chunk out of my ass.”

“Oh that’s an exaggeration,” Zeke said.

“I would show the scar but we have a lady present,” Dylan replied, gesturing to Alicia. She smirked.

“Ah you crybaby, I’ll go over.” Zeke wedged the joint in the corner of his mouth and climbed up the chain-link fence. There was a big sign on the front that stated BEWARE OF DOG. Now there was all manner of stories regarding this dog. Some said it was a huge Bullmastiff that had torn off some guy’s nutsack, others said it was a Doberman. Besides the account Dylan had given, Colby had no idea what was over there.

Zeke dropped down on the other side. He rubbed hands over his clothes and looked around, then raised his arms. “See. Nothing to worry about.” He even shook the chain-link fence a few times and called out, “Hey pup, pup. Come eat some ass.”

He laughed at Dylan and strolled over to the side of the building and tried the door. It was locked. “Maybe we should come back later,” Zeke said, peering through the opaque glass with a hand over his eyes.

What he didn’t see strolling around the corner was a Bullmastiff and a Doberman. Heath didn’t own one, he owned both.

“Zeke. Zeke!” Dylan said, trying his best not to raise his voice.

Zeke was